Then three wimmen giggled, and the waiters began to look mad and troubled.
“English rifles”—wall, I shouldn’t have thought they would have tried that agin. No, trifles,” sez he, a-lookin’ closer at it.
“English trifles!—lions’ tails and coronets, mebby—English trifles and tutty-frutty. Do have some tutty-frutty, Samantha, it has such a stylish sound to it, so different from good pork and beans and roast beef; I believe you would enjoy it dearly.
“Waiter,” sez he, “bring on some tutty-frutty to once.”
The waiter approached cautiously, and made a motion to me, and touched his forehead.
He thought he wuz crazy, and he whispered to me, “Is it caused by drinkin’? or is it nateral and come on sudden—”
Josiah heard it, and answered out loud, “It wuz caused by style, by bein’ fashionable; my only aim has been to git my wife a fashionable dinner, but I see it has overcome her.”
The waiter wuz a good-hearted-lookin’ man—a kind heart beat below that white necktie (considerable below it on the left side), and sez he to me—
“Shall I bring you a dinner, Mom, without takin’ the order?”
And I replied gratefully—
“Yes, so do;” and so he brung it, a good enough dinner for anybody—good roast beef, and potatoes, and lemon pie, and tea, and Josiah eat hearty, and had to quiet down some, though he kept a-mournin’ all through the meal about its not bein’ carried on fashionable and stylish, and that it wuz my doin’s a-breakin’ it up, and etc., etc., and the last thing a-wantin’ tutty-frutty, and etc., etc.
And I paid for the meal out of my own pocket; the waiter thought I had to on account of my companion’s luny state, and he gin the bill to me.
And Josiah a-chucklin’ over it, as I could see, for savin’ his money.
And I got him out of that place as quick as I could, the bystanders, or ruther the bysetters, a-laughin’ or a-lookin’ pitiful at me, as their naters differed.
And as we wended off down the broad path on the outside, I sez, “You have disgraced us forever in the eyes of the nation, Josiah Allen.”
And he sez, “What have I done? You can’t throw it in my face, Samantha, that I hain’t tried to cut style—that I didn’t try to git you a stylish meal.”
I wouldn’t say a word further to him, and I never spoke to him once that night—not once, only in the night I thought there wuz a mouse in the room, and I forgot myself and called on him for help.
And for three days I didn’t pass nothin’ but the compliments with him; he felt bad—he worships me. He did it all to keep me from goin’ to a costly place—I know what his motives wuz—but he had mortified me too deep.
Wall, this mornin’ I said that I would go to see the Palace of Art if I had to go on my hands and knees.